


Vultures

by potatomatopoop



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, Ficlet, Ficlet Collection, M/M, Multi, YOU CAN ALWAYS COUNT ON ME TO OBSESS OVER THE SIDECHARACTERS, can be read as standalone!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-05 18:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15176438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/potatomatopoop/pseuds/potatomatopoop
Summary: This fic is for my friend inkspill, who brought salvation upon us all with their BTS KINGSMAN AU!!!Basically, the Crows are the cleaners of Kingsman. Aside from cleanliness and maintenance of the Kingsman headquarters, they're also responsible for ensuring that every move of the organisation is clean and unnoticed. Hence - coordinating logistics with Merlin, cleaning up crime scenes, memory alteration, disposal (or recycling) of cadavers, the works.





	1. I. Cristobal & Eleanor

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Inkspill](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inkspill/gifts).



> The Cleaners, also known as the Murder (because they're basically a bunch of crows) (because they're always around corpses), are led by Tom. There are subunits for when they're deployed in the field to clean up the Knights' doings, and I'll be writing drabbles for some subunits basically until I run out of creativity lmao
> 
> [ inkspill's kingsman au ](http://gogopiper.tumblr.com/) PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE CHECK IT OUT!!!!!

"I'm not gonna fucking ask again," the woman threatened, pressing the gun harder to your temple. "Who do you work for?"

First of all: where the shit is Eleanor? You were so excited to be teamed up with an almost-knight. All you knew was that she got eliminated because of her hot temper, and not...abandoning her comrades, like this.

You always knew how it will end. You knew the risks of working for Kingsman; you are, and have to be disposable. Bad fucking luck though, you were just a cleaner for god's sake. You inhale sharply, trying to focus on the matter at hand.

You clutched the tiny hand grenade, snug and unnoticed in your palm. You're going down with your captors after this one last act of defiance - spitting out blood, and saying with the toughest face you can pull off in the face of death - "Panda Express, shitface-"

\- except you didn't get through with your punch line and supposed last words, as muffled gunshots pierced the air and your captors fell - one after the other - not even having time to turn their heads nor fire their guns. It all happened in a matter of seconds that in your panic, you hurriedly collapsed and played dead.

You almost didn't hear her voice over the sound of your heart hammering against your ribcage. "Cris?"

" _Puta madre,_ " you exhaled, groggily sitting up.

"I rescue your stupid fucking ass and this is how you thank me?"

"I love you so much."

"Gross. It's been like four days since we met."

"Exactly! I've taken and interest as to how you got here," you mused, "I mean, thirteen whole departments, and you choose to be with the crows?"

She scoffs, checking her phone. "It'll take all night."

"Well, I've got all night,"

"Ha! We haven't even gotten halfway through our job yet," she sighs exasperatedly," I wish those sons of bitches would just stop trying to sabotage Galahad. As far as I know, he's taken down another three just now," she said, showing you the notification on her phone.

"Now that you mention it... Do we have to clean this up too?" you said, gesturing to the corpses surrounding you.

"Jesus christ," she sighed, swiping her hands over her eyes. "I say grab their cash, deploy Plan F, clean up Galahad's spoils, and then eat. Please. I'm starving,"

Plan F stood for Fire - burn the crime scene - which also meant both of you'll be having an earful from Tom for not properly assessing the crime scene and identifying who these brutes even are and whatnot. But (a)you're beaten and bloody and bruised and (b)Lea was a scary motherfucker when she's hungry.

She offers you her arm, and you oblige.

"Plan F it is, then."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much for reading!!!!  
> i stayed up until 3am writing this?? I drank two cups of coffee at 4pm so i can focus on my studies but it backfired and gave me a creative boost instead jfc
> 
> BONUS: [ a pinboard i'm making for the Murder ](http://pinterest.com/potatomatopoop/tom-co)


	2. II. Tom & William

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> soft gays and bad self esteem

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> boi god knows how many times i had to EDIT THIS from my first draft because of ao3's shitty 'save draft' feature??? I'M BALD this isn't probably as well written as i'd like it to be but whatever here it is, i hope you enjoy!!!!!!!!!! fuck it i'm so salty at ao3 why god

"Tom?" William calls from the doorframe.

"Yeah?"

"Can I sleep beside you tonight?"

"C'mere."

Your line of job forbade you to have any marks and sentimental jewellery that would allow an outsider to recognize you. It's the type of job that requires you to be willing to let go of everything you hold dear. For your personal wellbeing and the privacy of the organisation, you had to be unattached.

While you weren't the oldest in the group, in terms of tenure you've certainly been a cleaner the longest than anyone in the team. In terms of skill, though, it was William who really possessed the skills to have your title as Head Cleaner. The only advantage you had over them was the utter numbness you developed from constant exposure to all the fucked-up things that kept happening in Kingsman.

Your line of job requires you had nerves of steel, eyes of steel, and a heart of steel. But William really had none of that. Under the veneer of aloof and efficient, William had the exact opposite of those requirements - honey in their veins, stars in their eyes, and a heart overgrown with wildflowers. They had a voice that could tame beasts, a smile that could outshine the fucking sun, and a touch so warm that you're pretty damn sure it could heal frostbite.

  
You'd seen them stalk away into the shadows to throw up too many times. Too many times, you'd caught them skipping meals and staring at the mirror with dead eyes. And you'd seen far too many dead eyes. You never want to see them again on the body huddling next to you for warmth.

"Did you get your piercings removed?" you ask.

"Mm-hm."

"And that tattoo on your wrist?"

"Never."

"Merlin will kill you."

"It's either her or my own damn thoughts, and honestly she could step on my neck and I'd thank her for it,"

"William-"

"Just let me sleep, Tom, I've been awake for 32 hours now," William mutters, burying their face deeper into your chest. "Babe, we've talked about this! I need a reminder, that's all."

For a few moments, you consider leaving them to sleep in peace. A question picks at the front of your mind, though, and you decide it's for the best if you voice it out:

"Why do you insist on being a cleaner?"

"Why do you insist on being such a dickhead?" they retort, wrapping their arms tighter around your torso.

"I don't know, why do you?"

"Zip it, asswipe, I swear to god I'll knock you out if you breathe another word."

"How about answer me or I'll throw you out of my room?"

William sighed in defeat and rolled away to lie on their back, quietly staring at the ceiling. "It's just what I'm good at," they finally mumble. "It took years and years to find something I won't drastically fail at."

"That's not true!"

"Yes it is," they whisper, "whether it's being a student or an employee or a friend or even a fucking son; I was horrible at all of it, the universe just kept telling me I was useless and I was a waste of space."

You'll never have a clever comeback to that, so you try to shush them and take their hands into yours to let them know you're here to listen.

"Everything I did was a failure and I couldn't live with myself knowing I was a disappointment to literally everyone I knew? And then, y'know..." they trailed off, burrowing into your side, "Kingsman picked me up for some reason? Honestly I don't know if I'll still be here if they didn't."

You hold them closer as you pick your next words carefully. "You know being a cleaner is fucking you up too, right? Why don't you just transfer to a less toxic department? Merlin could use some decent co-workers at intel."

"And leave y'all to mess shit up? If I so much as leave you lil' monkeys for one day, Kingsman would fall," they sneer.

"Wow. Why don't I step down and let you be Head Cleaner instead, then?"

"And have everyone's blood in my hands? Don't even think about it," they shiver ever so lightly, "I still think about Julien sometimes."

"I'm sorry,"

"Wasn't your fault,"

"Okay. Okay but promise me this," you say, cupping their face in your hands. "Promise me you'll ask to be assigned to jobs with less blood involved?"

"I can handle it, Tom, just hold me every night like this."

"Godfuckingdamnit William, I'm kicking your stubborn ass outta my fucking room-"

"Just kidding. Fine. I promise. Seal it with a kiss and let me fucking sleep already."

"That can be arranged." You kiss their forehead. "Good night, love."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- big mood @ william i'll thank merlin for stepping on my neck too  
> \- THIS IS SO SAPPY I CAN'T BELIEVE I WROTE THIS BULLSHIT
> 
>  
> 
> [ READ THE FIC WHERE THE CLEANERS FIRST APPEARED ON INKSPILL'S KINGSMAN AU! ](http://gogopiper.tumblr.com/post/175243213255/kingsman-min-yoongi-codename-kay)


	3. III. Samira, Avram, Maxine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i just want y'all to know that maxine's trans and samira & avram are lesbians

Kingsman’s security is really something else. The first thing you did after employment was study and be tested on the various codes used by the organization – names, phrases, gestures, and other symbols that would ultimately protect Kingsman, its secrets, and the world at large. Teams were encouraged to devise codes of their own, especially field agents.

In the field, none of you were allowed to say the word "Kingsman" aloud. To do so when being interrogated is out of the question; you were all trained to understand that the organization can fuck you up more than any torturer will.

However, despite all the meticulous precautions, the enemy's intel still manages to get ahead of yours – on very, very rare occasions.

“So – here’s our costumes for tomorrow; we’ll be nurses from an ambulance at 7 o’clock, police officers at the crossing around 10 o’clock, and if I’m not mistaken, Geraint needs us at the coffee shop downtown around 3pm so I got their barista uniforms as well.”

“Damn,” Avram exhales, “I’m already tired for tomorrow,” she says as the flops on the hotel bed.

You roll your eyes at her. “You’re the one who wanted to be an actress.”

“Yeah I did! But like in a theater where people applauded my skills and got my autograph.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?”

“Yeah, right,” Avram snorts. “Cleaning blood off carpets and mattresses? Real fun.”

A series of knocks resonate through the hotel room and she gets up to open the door. “Max! Fuckin’ finally! What the hell took you so-“

It took a beat for you to realize that something was out of place.

“No, wait!” you warn, eyes wide in alarm as you felt the air get denser. “Listen.Why aren’t they using our knock?” you whisper, reaching for the small gun in your holster.

“Shit. Shit, Samira, take that table” Avram leaps off the bed, closing the short distance between the bed and the peephole. “It’s Max though? There's nobody behind them...”

You position yourself behind the door, climbing the slender table to get a better vantage point. The hallway's pretty narrow, and this angle allows you to aim at people standing diagonally across your door as well as shield you from offending bullets.

“Something’s wrong,” you observed. Synapses firing in your brain, you devised possible escape routes : (a) breaking the balcony door – _reject; too messy_ , (b) set a fire to activate the fire safety system which will let you open the balcony door – _better, but you can’t just leave Max-_

“Louis? It’s me,” Max calls, voice stable and firm. You both recognized it to be the code for I _’m being held hostage and watched, I have to act normal._

_“_ Open up!" Max shouts.

“Coming!” Avram yells back. “How many pancakes did you get?”– _how many are guarding you_?

“Five! Hurry, they’re gonna get cold!”

Avram crouches at the other side of the door, rifle loaded and cocked. “They’re probably standing outside the peephole’s periphery. You take care of the ones on the right, I'll do the ones on the left."

“Hold on, I’m informing Merlin,” you press a few buttons on your watch; they’re coded messages as well. Intel’s bound to get the message in a heartbeat. What irony. If it all goes to hell, some Cleaners are probably gonna pick up your body too. “All done. On three?"

Avram crouches lower, one knee on the floor – if anyone planned to shoot her, they would expect the person opening the door to be on eye level. “Now!”

The second that followed was a blur your brain was one beat too slow to follow. Two of your adversaries, as expected, were easy to spot from your vantage point – they were standing in the open with their guns drawn. You were never much of a sharp shooter but in all the chaos you tried not to hit a vital point. _Don’t waste bullets._ One. Two. Shit, their coats are probably bulletproof – three. Four, five. Two men down. Not wasting any time, you leapt off the table.

"Shit!"

Max.

For a moment, your mind stopped registering anything at all save for the sight of blood seeping through Max' sweater.

The sweater's bulletproof, you calmed yourself, but it does have its weak points unlike the ones issued to the knights.   
Avram panicked, her voice ringing in your ears shouting profanities and telling Maxine to stay awake.

"One of them got away!" Avram fumed but made no motion to run after the man, choosing instead to hold Max and prevent the latter from losing consciousness.

"Stop shouting, oh my god...the lord's taking me..." Max barely whispers.

"Don't you fucking dare die on me!!!" Avram bellows.

"Eighth floor," Max mutters weakly. "Their leader's...on the floor above ours...That's probably where he's going."

You hurriedly dialed Merlin as Avram tried to stop the bleeding. The head intel picks up immediately.

"Samira. Don't bother – Geraint's already there. Medics coming in in about 3 minutes."

"Can you link me to Geraint? Please?"

Merlin just sighs. She knows where this is going. "Fine."

The line switched almost instantly. "Hello?" Geraint's voice calls from the line.

"Geraint? It's Samira. Are you done with the sons of bitches yet?"

"Almost. What's the matter?"

"Can you leave some for us? One of them fucking shot Max."

You hear a howl of pain from the other side of the line. "Sure."

"You're such a sweetheart. We'll be there in a bit," you end the line, tossing your dagger to Avram. "He's yours."

You shush Avram before she can even speak. "Yes, I'll do first aid and take care of the bodies outside before the hotel's security gets here. Now go – you have some bastards to screw up."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!!! i hope it's not as bad as i think it is!!!!! actually i'm not too confident about this update... i had 14+ hours of math and 2 exams in just 2 days and this is the result lmao


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